


Slowly

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request:  “I’m in love for the first time.” + “Hold me close.” + "Stay with me tonight.” + “Nobody ever loved me like you do.” + “Kiss me slowly.”
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 9





	Slowly

It was never going to last.

That’s what your mother warned you when you came home, breathless with excitement from Jaskier asking permission to court you. The words had hurt but you’d taken them to heart, knowing deep down that you could never be enough for the bard who’d been pursued by so many and happily caught by most. Still you made the decision to be brave and enjoy however long you may have with him while you could call him yours. Days turned to weeks turned to months. You’d hoped that the longer you were together the more secure you’d feel but it was quickly clear that the opposite was happening. The more time you spent together the closer you felt you were approaching the moment it would all end. You knew falling in love with Jaskier was a risk but you didn’t know just how much you might have to lose until you held it in your arms and realized you had given much more than you thought you could live without. The simplest mistake your mother had warned you never to make in love.

You tried to keep your insecurities hidden from Jaskier but he was more clever than people assumed and he’d noticed how your smiles had begun to falter and your embraces, though still tight, had an edge of desperation in them, as though you were holding on for dear life to something that was trying to slip away. You were sitting on a porch swing together staring up at the moon when he decided to ask. You were cradled in his arms, head resting against his chest as he stroked your hair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked, shifting up to meet his eyes.

“Something’s been wrong lately and you’ve been trying to hide it from me,” he prodded gently. You bit your lip and debated sharing what had been on your mind.

“Well, I guess in part it’s just that **I’m in love for the first time** ,” you said. He smiled and kissed you softly but when he pulled back to look at you again you could tell by the scrutinizing gaze he gave you that he knew there was more.

“I’m in love too,” he said.

“Yes but you’ve been in love before,” you argued.

“Yes but not like this. **Nobody ever loved me like you do** ,” he insisted. You don’t want to doubt him, you know it isn’t fair, but there’s a lifetime of evidence and arguments that make you cautious about believing in happily ever afters. He cups your face gently with his hand and you lean into his touch.

“I don’t know if I have the words to make you understand how I feel but I’ll do the best I can,” he said, “It’s different with you. Better. And worse. Because I have something to lose in a way I never did before. In the past my relationships were genuine and heartfelt but… very one-sided. When I look back I can see that now. But you’re kind and loving and genuine with me in a way no one ever has been before and I never realized how much I wanted that. I don’t think I really expected to ever have it, if I’m being honest,” he said and you begin to realize that you may not be the only one with a history that makes being vulnerable and trusting in happiness hard.

“What are you thinking?” he asks after you sit in silence for a few minutes, considering what he’s told you and what you want to say to him. But as he said himself, there are no words.

“ **Hold me close** ,” you ask instead. He wraps his arms back around you, kissing your head as he pulls you back in against him and you watch the stars in silence for some time.

“ **Stay with me tonight** ,” he says, breaking through the symphony of crickets and owls lulling you to sleep. You sit up again and consider his request, thinking about the connotations behind it. He can see that you’re grappling with the request and his encouraged by this, expecting an immediate refusal.

“I will be a gentleman. Well, I will be as much of a gentleman as you want me to be,” he corrects, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that makes you laugh and blush.

“But truly,” he insists, “I won’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. Cross my heart and swear to the gods. No, I swear it on my lute.”

He says the words emphatically and you try not to laugh, knowing that this is actually a very serious promise from a man who lavishes great attention and care on his instrument.

“Alright, but I have to ask for something first,” you say.

“Anything,” he answers breathlessly.

“ **Kiss me slowly** ,” you ask.

“What?”

“When you kiss me it’s always nice but it’s so… brief,” you explain, “I want you to take your time with it. Really kiss me like you mean it.”

He leans in quickly, mouth brushing against yours softly once, twice, and you’re about to complain that he still isn’t doing what you’re getting at when he deepens it. You sigh into the kiss and he slips his tongue through your parted lips, your hands clenching at the collar of his doublet as you slowly explore each other’s mouths. When he pulls back slightly so you can both catch your breath you can feel him smile, mouth never fully leaving yours.

“I love you,” he says, the words cascading across your lips, no longer bittersweet as they were before.


End file.
